


Watching

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Affairs, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Exhibitionism, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive!Hannibal, Stalking, Voyeurism, submissive!will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: Alana finds out about their affair, but not by accident.





	

Alana Bloom had never been a snoop. She had always been too concerned with boundaries- which was precisely why she was there that day. Hannibal was in a professional position with regards to Will and his health. His relationship with Will, if her suspicions were correct, was utterly unethical. She couldn’t rightfully allow it to continue.

_Yet…_

She tapped on her steering wheel, debating internally. She’d never been brave. Not in these matters.

_Maybe Hannibal knows what’s right? Will hasn’t had a partner for…_

The light from Hannibal’s house was beginning to become noticeable in the slowly-diminishing afternoon light. Alana could see Will, standing at the window, staring several feet from her car. Lost in thought.

_…Will hasn’t had a partner for years, surely. If Hannibal has managed to become close to him, then maybe…_

She turned her head, the locks of her hair shining in the lights of the city, the lights of the moon, the lights of her colleges’ house- and she looked at Will Graham. She saw his cheeks, his lips, his eyes, his face; the kind of face that should’ve been kissed and loved and printed on glossed magazines. He was so beautiful. Ridiculously so. And yet, here he was- disconnected. Separate from everyone, everything. Broken. Alone. Lonely.

_Maybe what he really needs is this. What Hannibal’s giving him. Maybe he needs someone._

His eyes were unfocussed, lost in the shadows of his mind, distracted by dust particles on the window sill. He looked haunted. He was framed by the window, the frame cutting him off at his hips like a towel, strung low after a shower. His jacket was gone. Alana wondered where. On Hannibal’s couch?

On Hannibal’s bed?

As if hearing her, as if sensing her confusion and her torn uncertainty, a hand appeared on Will’s shoulder. Will turned, tendons in his neck stretching under skin, his eyelashes fluttering-

A flash of Hannibal’s face. His cheekbones, his eyes- then, a hand grasped Will’s chin. Turned his face, fingers against his lips.

And suddenly they were kissing.

Alana gasped, immediately clasping her fingers over her mouth as the sound sliced through the silence of the car. She lowered her hand immediately, feeling foolish; it wasn’t as if they could _hear_ her.

Will’s eyes closed, and his mouth opened under Hannibal’s. She could see Hannibal, now, his eyes also closed. His hands rose to palm Will’s neck gently, tenderly. They moved like lovers. Like two men who had become used to each other, two men who knew each other’s bodies so well. She tried not to think about it, but she did; she wondered who was dominant, who was submissive. Whether Hannibal was gentle and kind, treating Will like the broken china doll he was, or whether he was rough and domineering. She pictured it, and wished she hadn’t, as images of flesh and the sound of phantom gasps filled her mind. She couldn't deny the hot swell inside her wasn't purely nervousness at this situation; it was a boiling mix of desire, jealousy, and anger.

She glanced, one last time, at the window. Saw Will's mouth open, his eyes closed in a pained gasp, his face turn back towards the window. He pressed his palms to the glass, lips forming words that Alana could decipher even from this far away;

_'Fuck me.'_

Alana started the car violently and forced herself to slowly, calmly drive away.

 

***

 

Will gasped against the glass. Watched the car slowly depart, laughed breathlessly.

"Wow," he panted, "I'd never have expected that."

"No, of course not," Hannibal replied mildly, drawing a hand down Will's side, "you were far too infatuated with her to notice her flaws."

Will moaned. Hannibal was inside him, buried deeply, yet he sounded so calm. So controlled. He almost felt entitled to his wild lust and lack of control; how could he be anything but, when sleeping with a man so contained? How could he be anything but a loose wire, anything but a vulnerable, shaking, warm mess of nerves and need?

"Can we not," Will heard his voice shake, "talk about her any more?"

"Why not?" Hannibal took hold of his hips. "Do you regret your feelings for her?"

"I– oh, god, I don't know Hannibal, please, just-"

"Do you?"

"I don't know, I don't know,"

"Answer the question." Hannibal commanded quietly. "And I will do as you wish."

"I... I don't regret..." Will was gasping, his head hot and spinning, his back curved in a desperate attempt to get Hannibal to  _move._ He knew the picture he must make. Dark hair, white shirt, pink lips and a debauched, arched body.

"I'm still waiting."

"I don't..." Will sucked in a breath, tried to compose himself, "I don't regret how I felt for her. I regret that I– _ah–_ that I took so long t-to recognise how I felt for you."

"So you admit it, then." Hannibal drew his hips back, and then forward in a cruel, powerful thrust. Will arched his head back, crying out. Then Hannibal started moving, fast and unrelenting, fucking him properly, fucking him hard. Will was at his mercy. It was like this, every night. The pain was almost as good as the pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the depravity of letting Hannibal take him like a dog, take him however he wished.

"Ad-Admit what?"

"That you always wanted me."

Will whimpered when Hannibal slid a hand onto his throat, clutched his neck. He couldn't breathe. But, then, he didn't care about anything except the stretch and the burn and the heat and the  _need-_

"Yes," he gasped, "god, yes, I-"

"Good."

"Hann-" Will's voice was broken apart by hushed gasps, his cheeks growing pink as Hannibal's fingers tightened on his throat, "the window-"

"Let them see." Hannibal whispered. "Let them see you."

Will moaned, went willingly, went limp as Hannibal pressed his cheek against the glass, his body against the wall. As Hannibal started to destroy him.

He would always want this.

And he would always let Hannibal take what he wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
